Chapter One: A Death Date for Twenty Yuan

Shen Yan was too poor to indulge superstition. He earned 4,200 yuan a month as an apprentice at Listening Rain Antiques, meals included, lodging not. His missing father had left him 270,000 yuan in debt. Even broken, the watch's movement might sell for thirty. He paid twenty. “When you accept an object,” the woman said as his phone chimed, “you accept where it came from.” A gust shook the awning. The woman was gone. So were her goods. Only the watch remained, painfully cold in his palm. He pressed the crown. Click. The rain vanished. He saw himself lying upstairs at Listening Rain, his white shirt soaked red. A wall clock showed 11:40. Someone in black gloves leaned over and removed the pocket watch.